


Mule Creek Ranch: Breaking In

by mx_vertiginous



Series: Mule Creek Ranch [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Amnesia, Caning, Dystopia, F/M, Gags, Human Livestock, Medical Experimentation, Medical Trauma, Medication, Restraints, Sexual Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 09:43:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7503498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mx_vertiginous/pseuds/mx_vertiginous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Second tale in the <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/series/512971">Mule Creek Ranch series</a>.  Original fiction set in a dystopian universe, where young women are kept as livestock for the reproductive needs of rich/powerful men.  </p><p>Told from the POV of one of the ranch hands, known as trainers.  A peek into the background of how the breeder girls are initiated into ranch life.  Hints about the dystopian political and corporate structures underlying the universe.</p><p>My intention is that the stories can be read in any order, so if this piques your interest there should be more in the collection soon (of varying degrees of explicitness, this is one of the less explicit stories).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mule Creek Ranch: Breaking In

A well-worn cowboy boot scuffed an arc in the dirt and gravel. Suddenly it scrabbled over the arc nervously, as its owner realized he was making a pattern. 

His third bitch was due from the medical clinic any time now. His first two girls had gone smoothly; one of them growing fat in the maternity barn, the other lent out as a domestic breeder. It was quite a coup for a new trainer to do so well, but James couldn’t escape the sinking feeling that he’d had it lucky, that he’d just gotten easy bitches; maybe girls from the inner colonies without much fight in the first place. He certainly didn’t feel the easy confidence the older trainers had: calm, weathered men who could quiet an unsettled girl with only their voice. If this one turned out to be nervous or difficult he now had a good reputation to screw up.

The barn door creaked open, but it wasn’t the expected medics. Instead a new trainer loped in. He looked at James and nodded curtly. “Stall 3?” he asked.

“Right over there,” James replied, pointing. The breaking barn reserved for new fillies was small, with only 6 stalls, and was otherwise empty. He looked the other young man up and down. Tidy short black hair, dark eyes, narrow shouldered and beardless. Not that the last two things meant much; only eunuchs were allowed as trainers. They came in two flavors, thin and coltish or chubby and flaccid. 

“Heard you were a transfer? Names James… what’s yours?” 

“Steve. And yeah, from the ranch in Sector 4. Corporation wasn’t getting as many bitches as they expected, so…” he shrugged, “they transferred a few of us out. Guess that’s how it goes.” The other man was younger than he looked at first, maybe 22 or 23, and sounded a lot more relaxed than James felt. 

At this they were interrupted by two men carrying a woman between them, naked except for a harness and gag in her mouth slumped over like a puppet, unconscious. They stopped at the first stall in from the door. “This one’s for Chuckie… don’t tell me he’s not going to bother to show.”

James simply shrugged in reply. It wasn’t at all good that Chuck was getting a bitch today too. He was a drunk and a screamer, and the last thing James needed when trying to get a new girl in hand was an asshole bellowing away in the background. But it wasn’t really his place to complain.

“Ah well… his choice,” the medic replied, lowering the girl gently into the clean straw and hooking her leash into the lock. “Other will be in soon…. James, just letting you know, you’re getting a repeat offender from the ranch in Sector 7.” 

“Re-ed bitch?” Steve’s eyebrows went up to his forehead.

Re-education girls had a reputation as hard to break. They were often girls that had lost their sanity after whelping or who had been lent out as domestics and rebelled. They’d be transferred to another ranch and undergo the same sedation and memory wipe procedure; hopefully for a fresh start. In school they’d been taught that re-eds were often more disoriented, with memory problems that got in the way of obedience. He wondered why she wasn’t being given to one of the older, more experienced trainers. Today was feeling more and more like a set-up for failure. 

The medics delivered two more girls, a darker skinned girl for the new guy and James’ re-ed, a blonde, who moaned piteously as they dropped her down in the straw. She looked awfully young. Probably not more than 20. Who knew what her backstory was… if the med team knew, they wouldn’t be telling him. Trainers took the girls as they came; The Corporation didn’t want any stories, any sympathies.

“Number 27,” the medic checked off some paperwork on a clipboard and nodded at James, before turning to Steve “and lucky number 13 for the new guy… have fun boys.”

The blonde girl groaned again, and her eyelids flickered before growing slack again. He laced her ankles together and held her feet steady then took several swift, hard strokes with the cane, leaving fat red welts rising across the soles of her feet. She moaned and flinched, but thankfully didn’t come around from the caning, giving him a chance to unbind her feet and wait for the sedatives to wear off. His little nice guy routine worked better if she didn’t regain consciousness while being beaten.

It wasn’t long to wait. The girls in the other stalls were still quiet when she shifted around and started sobbing softly into her hands.

“It’s alright, little one.” James steadied his voice, giving it a note of quiet authority. “You’re safe now.” 

The blonde turned her head at his touch. She made as if to talk, but confused brought her hands to her mouth, grasping at the gag. Her eyebrows folded up in a plead. 

His voice was calm and reassuring. “Just for a little bit, until you can learn when you’re allowed to talk.” He reached to rest his hand on her shoulder, grateful that she wasn’t too panicky. Confusion and disorientation was always easier to deal with. “You’re safe with me,” he repeated. Couldn’t say that too many times, especially when she was still reeling from the amnesic medications. “I’m your trainer. I’ll take care of you.”

Her eyes looked scared and doubtful, but she didn’t flinch when he touched her.

“Good girl, here, I’ve got a treat for you, pet.” He pulled a few chocolate chips out, and forced a finger into her mouth to make a pocket in her cheeks. Behind the gag her tongue worked at the bolus of candy, while brown drool came out the side of her mouth. He wiped her chin clean. “You learn to be good for me and there’s more where that came from.”

Wide-eyed, she nodded. Slowly she looked past him at the tall vertical slats of the pen, at the clean straw on the ground, at the feeding trough, and finally at the post that her leash was tied to. She started breathing fast and hard, and the rest of the chocolate dribbled out onto her bare breasts. In a panic, she tried to get to her feet.

Instantly, James was on her with the cane, a single hard stroke on the back of her thighs. Between the bite of the whip and the wince of pain from stepping onto damaged feet, she was hobbled back down into the straw. 

“Hands and knees, pet.” He reached over and smoothed her hair up out of her face, not caring that she flinched, pulling very gently to get her face to look up at him. He concentrated his gaze so his eyes never wavered with nerves. “Can you focus on me? Good bitch. I need you to stay on all fours, and I need you to stay quiet, understand?” 

She nodded again, still confused, but willing to meet his eye. That was a good sign; once he could get them to look him in the eye he had the upper hand. Calmly and gently, he cleaned the chocolate off her face.

“You’re safe now. But I need you to stay quiet. If you can promise me you’ll stay quiet, I’ll give you a little water. You want some water?”

Vigorous nodding this time. The drug cocktail always left them with dry mouth and low blood sugar. It was one of the things they’d learned in corporate training. An easy carrot to get the girls to start trusting them. Water and sugar. 

“If you can’t be quiet, I’m going to have to punish you. You don’t want that, do you?”

This was met by a blank look. James tapped her on the flank with the cane, just a little sting. Her eyes widened again and she, very seriously, shook her head no.

“You understand, pet? I need you to stay nice and quiet.” He loosened the buckle around her head, not really enough for her to spit out the gag, just enough to slip a sport bottle straw into her mouth. When she finished, he slipped another chocolate in her mouth and tightened the gag back down, smoothing his fingers through her hair. “There you go, I’m proud of you. Be a good little pet like that all the time, and we’ll get along just fine.”

Taking her leash, he walked around the small pen, showing her the necessities. He hadn’t expected her to follow and she didn’t, staying hunched in the center of the pen. Her eyes followed him blankly. Food station, fresh water fountain for when she had the gag off, waste trough, and a soft stack of hay for resting. No blankets; too much of a risk for girls who might still be disoriented, rebellious or suicidal. 

James was just taking down his clipboard to fill out her paperwork when the barn door wheezed open again, and Chuck came in yelling at his bitch to “wake the fuck up” already. The blonde looked alarmed and scooched in to lean against James’ leg. “Don’t worry pet.” he said in a low voice “You’re safe.” He reached down and ruffled her hair. 

He was on page three of the intake forms when he glanced back down at her, only to notice a puddle forming under his boots. 

“Oh, fuck no!” he yelled down, grabbing her by her hips and pulling her over to the waste trough. “Here, bitch, you piss HERE!” She looked up at him with tears in her eyes, confused. “Ssssssssss…. Piss, pee-pee… you do it here, in the trough. Not on the floor!”

In the background, Chuck barked out a laugh, “You pull the short straw this time and get yourself a moron?”  
“God damnit, shut the hell up, Chuckie!” James kicked some straw over the puddle.  
She made sense now.  


The term the corporation used was “overprocessed.” It wasn’t in the official training manuals, but rumor was that bitches mostly ended up like this after electroshock. Quiet and compliant, but dull-witted. They were in need of toilet training, and often unable to look after their own basic hygiene. The extra work of potty training and grooming wasn’t the worst part. Overprocessed girls were often slow to mind, easily distracted and unable to snap to attention. 

James frowned as he shoveled out the soiled straw. He tried to remember what he’d been taught about dealing with bitches who had been overprocessed, if there was some trick or a different tack you took with them, or a wrong tack. But he was coming up blank. The best he could come up with were the words of his practicum supervisor, a weathered old cowboy who’d trained sheepdogs before the world fell apart. “Ain’t no bitch that’s untrainable. You just gotta be on ‘em like flies. Reward, punish, reward, punish. Even the littlest things. Until their first instinct, not thought, mind you, their instinct is to do what you says. Once you’ve got that you don’t need no more treats; even the dumb ones ‘ll mind. They might not do backflips for ya, but they’ll mind.” 

The blonde was cowering in the corner of her stall, . He seemed to have her trust at least, and that was a start. Putting up the shovel, James got down on one knee and held her chin so she was eye-to-eye with him, “You’re safe, bitch, you’re safe. I’m just gonna go get cleaned up. When I come back we can get started with lessons.”

At the door of the barn, James stopped to hose down his boots. A couple half-gallons of gatorade from the clinic would probably do the trick. The sun was already low in the sky. Maybe a gallon of gatorade for her and a thermos of coffee for himself. It was going to be a long night.


End file.
